


The Galaxy, and Then Some

by rinnwrites



Series: Little Toy Guns (Bucky Barnes Bingo 2019) [2]
Category: Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Fic based on art!, Found Family, Multi, Pre-Steve Rogers/Sam Wilson, Space AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-12
Updated: 2019-06-12
Packaged: 2020-05-02 08:39:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19195438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rinnwrites/pseuds/rinnwrites
Summary: All children took history seminars about the human race and the thousands of years when they were all trapped on a single planet together in a proximity that led to conflict over resources, beliefs, power. Hundreds of years ago the closeness had brought them to war time and again, until the imminent collapse of their planet’s ecosystem spurred the many governments of the world to pool resources for interstellar exploration and colonization.Their efforts had saved Earth, expanded the reach of the human race to the six explored solar systems they knew today, and in the process, seen the colonization of planets and creation of space stations throughout the galaxy.OrIn which 7 strangers from across the galaxy find each other and become a family.Also, Bucky Barnes Bingo - B5: Winterwidow





	1. Steve

**Author's Note:**

  * For [krycekasks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/krycekasks/gifts).



> Thank you thank you thank you to the wonderful people without whom this would not exist, particularly Krycek for the absolutely BEAUTIFUL art that this fic is based on - your awesome enthusiasm made writing it so fun for me, Faustess for being a fantastic beta (who kept this work from being nearly without commas), and Toni aka Wakandan_Wardog for being my cheerleader, my accountability partner, and my solidarity sprinter - you are an absolute blessing.
> 
> Also: if you like space journal type stuff in this vein, you should 100% check out Nathan Lowell’s Solar Clipper books by which this AU is very loosely inspired.

_ Earth Year 2454 _

_ Sol I - Gamma Region _

_ The Howling Commando, Series 8 V.C. Shipping Vessel _

 

“We have a beacon signal from Pluto Station!” 

Clint’s voice echoed over the ship-wide channel, his enthusiasm ringing brightly through the corridors of the Commando.

Usually, Steve would pull out his tablet and link Clint a light reprimand for using the ship-wide channel for an unapproved announcement (a far too frequent occurence for the Captain’s liking) but he, like the rest of the crew, thrummed with excitement from the declaration. Enough to let it slide...this time. 

Pluto Station was a metropolis - a planetary station at the furthest reach of Gamma Region. At just under one year old, it was the fastest populated (and most celebrated) colony built to-date. Pluto would be the new stepping off point between Sol I and the rest of the galaxy, and in a way, it was a celebration of how far the human race had come in the 300 years since the first colony on Mars.

Though they’d long surpassed their native solar system, (Even Sol VI already had a fully functioning beacon station) this was, in a way, a long-awaited monument to three centuries of exploration, progress, and the longest spanning peacetime in human history. 

So naturally, it was also a massive party. 

Pluto’s first year would be celebrated with all of the pomp and circumstance due an accomplishment of its size. The station itself covered only a small portion of the planet’s surface, but even so, it was the largest planetary station in existence, larger even than the terrestrial cities on Chantilla, Kuan Yin, Loropia, and Earth itself. 

It was said to be able to contain and sustain everything a livable atmosphere could hold: beaches, shopping malls, parks with grass and trees, butterflies and birds...the wildest of rumours even suggested that a rollercoaster had been erected, not far from the city center. 

None of them had known how much of the rumor and speculation was true, but the signal Clint had just picked up from the beacon would give them access to specs. The comms expert was probably sifting through the data already in his excitement. 

Steve was excited too, for the grandeur, but maybe more so to be in his own solar system again, to see his own sun. 

Pluto would be not only the largest ground station any in their crew had ever visited, but the closest they’d been to Alpha Region in their time together. 

The closest Steve had been to home in….well, the 16 years since he’d left.

 

*****

 

_ Earth Year 2439 _

_ Sol I - Alpha Region _

_ Earth - New York City _

 

“I’m sorry, Rogers, but we need the unit. I wish there was somethin’ I could do for ya, kid.”

Steve looked up from the bag he was packing on the table, his scant belongings barely enough to fill the small duffel. He’d always lived with little, and it had never been a problem - he’d never felt like he didn’t have enough, because his mother made it feel that way. 

When she’d gotten sick, he didn’t let himself believe that it was possible to lose her, so even now, after months of sickness, her passing had been a kick to the gut, knocking the wind out of him and leaving him gasping for air. 

He didn’t have a plan, he didn’t have anywhere to go. 

“It’s alright Mr. Jones, I just….I don’t know what I’m supposed to do next.” He scrubbed a hand over his face, he wouldn’t cry. He’d done enough of that already, alone in this empty apartment that had been his home his entire life. The thought of leaving was suffocating, but he didn’t have the credits to pay rent on it himself - sweeping up at the sandwich shop down the block didn’t exactly have him flush. 

“You’re just now 17, ain’t ya?” 

Mr. Jones had bought the building back in 2430, he was gruff and no-nonsense, but he cared about the tenants, in his way. Steve couldn’t decide if was surprising that the man knew his birthday had just passed. 

“I, yeah?” he fiddled with the strap of his bag, tossing it over his shoulder but making no move to leave, not when he didn’t know where he was  _ going _ . 

Mr. Jones gave him a little smile, “Well boy, you’re a bonafide adult now, ya can do anythin’ ya want!” he looked Steve over, appraising. “Ya could get off this fossil of a planet, travel the stars and go somewhere new.”

That sure was a thought, but....”That’s a fine idea Mr. Jones, but I couldn’t afford a ticket hardly anywhere.” Steve wouldn’t make it past Mars with the credits in his account. 

“Then don’t pay for a ticket,” the old man chuckled, “take a hopper to the shipyard and find ya a berth - ya could go far as Xi Region and earn some creds along the way - always berths at the shipyard, kid.”

Steve looked at him a moment, struck with the possibility and unsure how to respond. 

“Take some time to think about it. Cleanin’ crew won’t be here ‘til evenin’.”

With that, Mr. Jones was gone, and Steve stood alone once more in the empty kitchen, everything he owned in the bag at his side as he made a decision. Mars it was. 

 

*****

 

_ Earth Year 2439 _

_ Sol I - Alpha Region _

_ Earth - Hopper Station _

 

It took nearly all of what was in Steve’s account to get him on the hopper, and his stomach churned with the uncertainty of it all. If he couldn’t find a berth right away….he refused to think about that. There were more immediate things on his mind as people filtered into the hopper, filling the seats around him. 

They settled in and each buckled the three straps that would hold them in place upon takeoff, and keep them from floating off in the zero gravity between the heavy atmosphere of Earth and the lighter on Mars. 

Steve swallowed thickly, his knuckles already turning white where he gripped his shoulder straps. This was safe. Totally safe, routine even. Across from him, a mother fastened in her young children, one row up, a teen with bright blue hair slumped into a seat, neon earbuds poking out of his ears.

He tried to recall some sort of statistic about the safety of hopper travel. They wouldn’t even hit lightspeed, the trip from Earth to Mars was the oldest hopper route there was - he’d learned about that in his earliest history seminars. He’d be fine. 

A businesswoman with a kind face settled into the seat next to him, briefcase safely stowed under the floor beside Steve’s duffle. The woman looked relaxed, and shot a sympathetic look over at Steve as she tightened her waist strap. “First time off-planet?” she asked quietly. The warmth in her voice reminded him of his mother, and a tear threatened at the corner of his eye. 

Steve blinked it away and nodded, wondering how pathetic and scared he looked that she’d have guessed right away. 

She smiled gently. “Take-off is the worst part, and it’ll be over in no time. You might even have fun.”

Steve offered a nod and an almost smile, though his hands gripped ever tighter as the captain announced takeoff, and a short safety hologram played out in front of his eyes. 

Moments later, the overhead lights dimmed, the bright red of the exit signs the only internal lights, and a countdown to take-off started from 10. 

As each second passed, Steve forced himself to breathe in and out, squeezing his eyes closed tightly as it finally hit one, and the were launching.

The start of their journey was a smooth acceleration into the mid atmosphere, the ‘hop’ for which the inter-system crafts were named, the inertia pushed Steve down into his seat like someone was pressing down on every part of his body. 

The force felt like it would flatten him to a pancake, and his stomach churned like his insides had been left behind on Earth, and then the trembling began. The whole vessel started to shake as it lost momentum from the initial launch, gravity trying to reclaim them and drag them back down - Steve’s heart throbbed like it wanted to return too, back to the only home he’d known and away from this unknown and uncertain future. 

And then, at the peak of their hop, just as Steve began to panic that they really would fall back to the ground, the engines fired, and propelled them up, and up, out of the comfortable atmosphere of home and into space. 

He’d known what to expect - but the feeling of weightlessness wasn’t something to prepare for. As they settled into their journey, and their bodies became accustomed to the speed, the sensation snuck up on him. 

His feet rose first, unsecured to the ground, they lifted from the floor, toes brushing against the seat in front of him, and then there was a gentle pressure, his body trying to rise, inhibited by the straps around his waist and crossed over his chest. Steve wondered for a moment if it was possible for his soul to really leave his body and float above, and as the little girl across the aisle began to giggle at the odd feeling, he found himself smiling, in spite of everything. 

 

*****

 

_ Earth Year 2439 _

_ Sol I - Alpha Region _

_ Mars Station - The Shipyard _

 

The rest of the journey to Mars was generally uneventful - the landing was a little turbulent, but nothing like take-off, and besides, Steve’s mind had moved on to worrying about his chances of finding a berth on such short notice...he didn’t have the creds to stay at a fancy station hotel, even for the night

His worries ebbed a little, if only out of distraction when he stepped onto the main dock at the shipyard. The claustrophobia-inducing metal passageways of Mars Station gave way to the largest room Steve had ever seen, concrete floors enclosed in a dome of glass that extended far overhead showing the clear dark sky, the reddish landscape that reminded Steve that he  _ wasn’t on earth anymore _ , and most importantly, the ships. They were  _ everywhere _ , hundreds of faster-than-light vessels docked in rows by type, size, and purpose. Steve gaped at them, not realizing that he’d stopped short in the doorway until someone pushed by him, causing him to stumble a few steps, mutter a distracted apology, and refocus on the inside of the dome. 

It was full of noise and motion, the center filled with brightly colored kiosks selling food, or trinkets, or boasting 10-minute tablet repair. The room was a hub, with tunnels jutting out in all directions, signage designating each as a type of docking terminal; long-term, shipping, passenger, repair, and more. 

Between the tunnels the walls were lined with restaurants and bars, crowded with people coming and going from ship to station. Most predominantly in these locations were the crews of company ships, grouped together in uniforms coordinated by color, enjoying their time on station until it was time to ship off again. 

Theirs were the ranks that Steve endeavored to join. They looked to be having a good time, a rowdy group in red jackets were raising a toast to someone among them, and Steve felt a flutter of hope. He had no idea what he was getting himself into, but he sent up a little prayer that it might be something like that. 

Just as the thought crossed his mind, his gaze landed on a kiosk just outside the tunnel to the shipping terminal. A large banner at the top declared it the Voyager Company recruiting station. As the universe had become larger, the need for competitive markets had waned, so Voyager Company was a household name, and exactly the one that Steve had been looking for. He made his way over to the kiosk, hands nervously tugging at the strap of his bag once again.

“Hello! Welcome to Voyager Company! Are you ready to embark on a journey to a new way of life?!” 

As he approached, Steve was greeted by a stunning blonde, perfectly curled hair falling around rosy cheeks and deep red lips framing gleaming white teeth. An android. More lifelike than most of what Steve had seen before, but still noticeable in the way she spoke with phony enthusiasm, and the blinks that came just too far apart. She stared at him expectantly and Steve opened and closed his mouth for a moment before finally managing an “Uhh, sure?”

The android launched into instructions on scanning his tablet to locate eligible berths, but Steve was too distracted to listen - his attention was drawn by an amused snort off to his side, where a boy close to his age peered at him over a tablet, eyes filled with glee. 

Steve glared, cheeks flushed in embarrassment, “You got a problem?” 

The boy just smiled, not the least bit chagrined as he stood and moved over to the counter where the android had finished speaking and was again waiting for Steve to respond. “First time seein’ an android or just the first one that’s so pretty?” The boy asked, reaching without permission to grab Steve’s tablet from the pocket of his bag.

“Hey!” Steve cried, reaching for the tablet, but calming significantly as the boy just placed it face down on the kiosk’s scanner and peered at the screen. “First one I’ve seen that’s so  _ lifelike _ .” he mumbled, looking over the boy’s shoulder as his information populated the screen.

“Well Stevie, you’re from  _ Earth _ , so that makes sense.” The boy looked a little curious at that fact, but just kept reading the screen. “Just 17, me too - seemed like a helluva wait to get out of here though. No family, tough break. Crew’ll be your new family though, you’ll see. And look!” He tapped excitedly on the screen, pulling up a berth that Steve’s profile had matched with, “There’s a spot for you on the Marvel - that’s where I’m going. Largest FTL vessel in the whole Voyager Company, my dad just helped with some routine maintenance. Ships out tomorrow morning!” The stranger looked back expectantly. 

Steve gaped again, not sure how to take in…..most of what this boy had just said to him. “It’s just Steve,” was what he could manage.

The boy rolled his eyes, “Alright  _ just Steve _ ,” he over-emphasized the name, “I’m Bucky. Born here on Mars Station, been watching my dad fix up VC ships for years. Finally old enough to hop on one and go.” As he gestured off at the ships docked outside the glass, Steve notice that one of Bucky’s arms was made of metal, though it moved just like any old arm. 

Not wanting to stare, he pulled his eyes away and looked back at the screen. “I need something that leaves tonight.”

“There are no vessels slated for evening departure that match the profile of Rogers, Steven G.” the android supplied helpfully. 

Bucky looked at him with a grin even as Steve’s heart dropped out of his chest, “See, ya gotta wait until tomorrow anyway, might as well join the Marvel with me!”

Steve narrowed his eyes, frustrated with the situation and taking it out on this near stranger, “Why’d you want some kid you just met to come with you so bad?”

It was Bucky’s turn to flush, and he shuffled his feet for a moment before shrugging, “I got sisters, 4 of ‘em, and I’ve never really been on my own at that much. Thought it’d be nice to be in it with someone else, is all.”

Steve softened at that, all of a sudden endeared to this boy at the realization that they were both stepping into a new world without any family to lean on. “I don’t have anywhere to stay until the morning. Can’t afford a room.” he admitted, looking at the floor. 

“Well that one’s easy, bunk the night with me and we’ll head out tomorrow, together. Ma’s making a big farewell dinner anyway, bound to be plenty extra.” Bucky was beaming, like he knew that there was no way Steve would say no now, and there was that flash of hope again, flaring up in Steve’s chest and making him think this decision hadn’t been so crazy. 

Steve just shook his head, a soft smile on his face as he tapped “Accept Berth” on the screen in front of him and reclaimed his tablet. 

“Congratulations, Steven Rogers, and welcome to the Voyager Company! Please review and sign the contract on your tablet and report to dock L7 at 0500 station time.” The cheery android finished her programmed spiel and settled into stillness, waiting to start again when a new recruit approached. 

“C’mon, you can do the contract stuff later, we’ll have plenty of time after dinner.” Bucky grinned, slipping his own tablet back into his pocket and heading back towards the tight corridors of Mars Station, leaving Steve with nothing to do but follow. 


	2. Bucky

_ Earth Year 2441 _

_ Sol III - Theta Region _

_ The Marvel, Series 2 V.C. Shipping Vessel _

 

“Two years and you still can’t make a decent pot of goddamn coffee, can you Stevie?” Bucky grinned over the plastic mug of brown sludge - that he was drinking anyway - as the two of them tidied up the mess hall…or, as Steve tidied and Bucky made himself comfortable sitting atop one of the metal tables. 

Stragglers still filtered through the serving lines, claiming what little was left over after the lunch rush. They were nearing their destination, which meant the popular food stores were getting depleted, and the chef had started getting creative. He’d pull together meals out of whatever supplies they had left to feed the crew for the last few days. It meant very little in the way of dairy, produce, or unfrozen meats, but somehow it always worked out. 

Generally the crew was too excited about reaching their destination to complain, they’d have a night or two on-station where they could eat at a real restaurant, drink at a bar, interact with people outside of the crew, and indulge in some of the...recreational activities that were frowned upon while in transit.

As excited as the crew was about the prospect of freedom, Bucky was even more excited - their docking at the Theta Region SHIELD base would finalize his transfer from mess to medical. It was a lateral move to another level 1 berth, but he’d been talking about it for  _ ages  _ and with this stop, it would finally happen. 

“Well you better get used to it, jerk, because it’s the only coffee anyone’s getting around here for a while once you  _ abandon _ me.” Steve grumbled, turning away to wipe down another table and hide the smile that he couldn’t hold back. He was happy for Bucky - they’d both been in mess long enough. It was a good place for a rookie, a slow, low-pressure environment to learn the ropes of life in the Voyager Company, but they both had aspirations for branching out from early on.

Bucky had been hovering in the med bay since their first few weeks aboard the Marvel - whenever he wasn’t on meal prep, serving, or cleaning duty in the mess hall, he lingered outside the exam rooms or in the lobby, chatted with the medics and watched procedures - it all fascinated him. 

The whole thing reminded him of the days he’d spent watching his father fix-up busted or run-down shipping vessels when he was a kid, finding out what was wrong and carefully making it right again. He’d never been too interested in mechanics, but the idea of fixing up  _ people _ was far more appealing. 

Medical, however, had a long training process, with advanced seminars, and low-level berths in the field were rare, even for a ship with a crew of hundreds, so he waited. 

It had been a couple months ago that he’d finally learned of a berth that would be opening, and he’d linked the Marvel’s first mate to formally request a transfer the moment that it was announced. They’d required him to take an aptitude test or two, but now it was locked in, and Bucky would report for duty first thing after docking. 

Until then, he was still technically on the mess crew, though he seemed reticent to pull his weight. “I’ll be back around here for meals, or you can smash your hand in a bunk screen, if you miss me that much,” he shot back, all in good humor as he drained the cup and dropped it in a bus pan, finally grabbing a rag and joining Steve to wipe down tables.

Steve rolled his eyes before fixing his friend with a fond smile, “I’m happy for you, Buck. You deserve that berth.”

Normally, Bucky would grimace or groan at him for getting sappy, but he was in a special kind of mood today and he just smiled. “Thanks.” Another table wiped down, a few more trays dropped in the bus pan. “Yours is coming too, you know? If nav is what you want, we’ll find you a berth in nav, even if we gotta jump ship.”

Steve laughed, hauling the bus pan back towards the kitchen to add to the wash pile. “I’m not in any hurry. Nav sounds great but I’m still weighing my options.”

While Bucky had spent the past two years with the knowledge that he wanted to be in medical, Steve hadn’t found his calling quite so fast. For a while he spent his free time in the Marvel’s expansive gym, working through his grief on a punching bag, letting his mind wander, considering where wanted to go from here, all the while satisfied with the monotonous but familiar work of mess duty.

Eventually, Steve began to explore the other specialties out there - engineering and environmental were both fleeting interests, while communications held his attention for a little longer - he even took a few short seminars on beacon technology and transmission coding, but it soon went over his head, and his sights turned to navigation. 

It was a role that required lower level knowledge about all the other specialties, with a huge emphasis on the logistics of space travel. He found himself lingering outside the bridge to catch a glimpse of what was going on there, and listening to the captain strategize cargo routes and supply pickups and refueling distances with his first mate and level 4s from across the ship. There was an appeal to it that he couldn’t deny. 

So maybe ‘weighing his options’ wasn’t exactly what Steve was doing, but he was content to take various seminars on his tablet and wait it out until a berth came up. He certainly wasn’t going to pull Bucky away from the Marvel - not when he’d just started his climb - but he didn’t think he could leave him behind either. 

Bucky followed behind Steve into the kitchen, tossing his rag aside and opening the heavy door of the sonic cleaner. “Well, while you weigh options I guess I’ll just be treating the patients you send to medical with your toxic coffee.” 

Steve threw a mug at the back of his head. 

 

*****

 

_ Earth Year 2441 _

_ Sol III - Theta Region _

_ SHIELD Combat Training Base _

 

By the time his tablet blared at him to wake up, Bucky was already alert, the excitement of his first day in medical waking him long before his reporting time rolled around. He tapped the screen to silence it, and swiped back to his seminar files, looking through the courses he’d be completing along with his new post. They were complicated, extensive, but at the end of them he’d be a sure bet for any level 2 medical berth he could find, which would make it easier to switch crews if he needed to - if Steve ended up finding a navigation berth somewhere other than the Marvel. 

His focus wandered from the tablet and he slid open the heavy privacy screen around his bunk, letting in cool air that made him shiver. Steve’s bunk screen was open, the bed empty and sheets carefully tucked in where he’d left them the morning before - he must have spent the night on-station. Bucky grinned to himself, wondering what his friend had gotten into after they’d parted ways last night.

Both Steve and Bucky had been held on-board after docking to run supper in the mess, despite the very small amount of crew that actually partook. Most of them had fled for the station as soon as docking was announced, but the small dinner crowd meant they finished their duties early and had plenty of evening time to themselves. As soon as they were dismissed, Steve had headed out to explore the station, while Bucky giddily made his way to the first mate’s office, where an android assistant allowed him to sign his new contract and issued him a new ID patch and on-duty uniform. 

While on board, everyone wore some version of the Marvel crew uniform. Until now, both Bucky and Steve had only worn the standard issue, heavy black canvas pants and a deep crimson jacket, with soft velcro on the left chest to hold their ID patch. It was a simple tag, a black rectangle with their last name, level, and specialty embroidered in white. Every permutation of the uniform had a space to wear it, and any crew member caught without one would get a citation...if anyone on a higher level noticed. Some crews were more relaxed about it than others, but the Marvel was one ship where the wearing of an ID tag was strictly enforced. 

Climbing out of his bunk, Bucky winced as his bare feet hit the cold floor and he quickly pressed his thumb to the outside of his locker. The door slid out of the way, revealing his scant belongings. 

As a member of the Voyager Company, Bucky could get anything he needed from the ship - so he’d never had much need for extra stuff. A bin in the bottom of the locker held his boots, a few pairs of socks, a portable VR gaming attachment for his tablet, and a repair kit for his bionic arm - though both medical and engineering had been issued the tools and the specs to repair it if needed (courtesy of the captain himself, Bucky hadn’t even had to ask.) On the rod across the top, there hung a few civilian clothing items that he hardly wore, and his two uniforms.

After pulling on a pair of clean socks to warm his feet, Bucky reached up and carefully peeled his ID patch from his crimson jacket, affixing it for the first time to his new uniform. Everyone in medical wore scrubs when on duty, a different color combination for each level, to help with quick identification in an emergency. 

Bucky’s were solid crimson, top and bottom. They were thinner and softer than his old uniform, the short sleeves left his flesh arm open to the cold of the ship, and his metal one gleaming in the recessed dormitory lights. It would be something to get used to. 

Unable to stand around in his quarters any longer, he tossed his sleep wear in the laundry chute to be flash cleaned by the environmental level 1s, and stepped out of the pod he shared with Steve, striding down the hall and out of the level 1 dormitory sector.

The med bay was quiet when Bucky arrived, a few crew members occupied the patient rooms down one corridor, but the exam beds were all empty. A woman in black scrubs looked up from a tablet as he entered the lobby. Jane Foster, level 3, just one seminar and certification exam from a full-fledged medic, smiled at him. They’d met before, Bucky had observed her back when he’d just been lurking, and he was reassured to see a friendly face. 

“Barnes, good, you’re here!” 

Bucky turned to see a man, not much older than himself, in level 2 scrubs, black pants and crimson shirt, his ID patch proclaiming ‘RUMLOW’ in its large block letters. 

His face was familiar from the mess, but his name rung a bell from the paperwork Bucky read last night - this would be his supervisor, the level 2 he reported to in the numerical ladder of medical. Hopefully he wouldn’t be a douche.

Bucky smiled easily, holding out a hand to shake, “Rumlow, nice to meet you, looking forward to getting started.”

“Good,” Rumlow replied, bypassing a handshake in favor of handing Bucky an unopened box of exam gloves. “Typically we wouldn’t start you until departure, but the unique nature of the station means all hands on deck. Start prepping exam rooms 1 through 12, setup manual is on your tablet if you need it, supply room at the end of the hall, freshly stocked.”

With that, Rumlow was off towards a patient room, head already buried in his tablet again. 

Catching Bucky’s bewildered face, Jane snorted softly, sliding her own tablet back into her pocket. “Don’t mind Rumlow, he’s all business. It’s his first day in a new berth too.”

“What did he mean about the nature of the station?”

Jane grinned, “Ever been to a combat training base before?”

Bucky shook his head, feeling a little nervous. He knew this base was one of only four in the colonized universe where they trained SHIELD troops in combat. 

All children took history seminars about the human race and the thousands of years when they were all trapped on a single planet together - billions of people cooped up in a proximity that led to conflict over resources, beliefs, power. Hundreds of years ago the closeness had brought them to war time and again, until the imminent collapse of their planet’s ecosystems spurred the many governments of the world to pool resources for interstellar exploration and colonization. 

Their efforts had saved Earth, expanded the reach of the human race to the six explored solar systems they knew today, and in the process, seen the creation of the United Government of Earth, UGE, who oversaw the SHIELD Military Group in the colonization of planets and creation of space stations throughout the galaxy. 

The abundance of space, of freedom, and of resources had led to a decrease in tensions among peoples, and with it, a decrease in the tendency towards war. 

With no war, there was little to no need for fighting, particularly hand-to-hand combat, but soldiers still learned how. 

“They teach SHIELD personnel to fight here, but they allow civilians to use the arenas and work with the trainers, some people do it for fun, or for a new experience. A good part of our crew is going to be out there beating each other up, and we’ll have to pick up the pieces. Station medical isn’t staffed for the influx of injuries a crew our size will bring, so they’ll come back here for treatment.”

Bucky gaped. It was hard to wrap his head around a desire to hurt or be hurt by other people, especially crew mates - he’d only really considered fighting like that during his history seminars, years ago. 

Jane laughed, “It’s nothing horrific, usually. Broken bones, black eyes, cracked ribs. All pretty simple procedures, but we do need those rooms stocked, so you should get on it before Brock comes back or a level 4 walks by and sees you just standing around.” She winked and headed off towards the patient rooms without another glance. 

Bucky pulled out his tablet and set to work stocking rooms. 

 

*****

 

Halfway through the morning shift, the shock had started to wear off. Crew members wandered in one after another with wrist fractures, and rolled ankles, and even one guy with a bloody gash in his cheek from his opponent’s jewelled ring. 

Rumlow and Foster, along with a few other level 2s and 3s tended to each patient with efficiency as Bucky and the other level 1s kept the rooms stocked, watched, and learned. 

Every so often, Jane would beckon Bucky over to get a better look at something, or let him carefully maneuver the bone fuser on a simple fracture, watching through the instant x-ray screen as the injected particles stitched the break back together in minutes. She explained how it worked as it went, the science behind the tool, the chemistry of the repair, and Bucky wondered how much she was teaching him and how much she was just audibly studying for her upcoming certification.  

It was fascinating, nonetheless. 

Just as it crossed his mind that he couldn’t wait to tell Steve about his day, he heard a familiar voice from behind him, as he watched Rumlow carefully pressing a medi-patch over patient’s swollen eye. 

“Well, Buck, I didn’t even have to smash my hand in a bunk screen!”

Wide-eyed, Bucky turned around to see Steve, one arm grasping at his other shoulder, grimacing in obvious pain. “You’re a damn idiot, Steve Rogers.” He rolled his eyes and slid out his tablet, pulling up Steve’s crew records and adding him to the treatment queue. “You get hurt on purpose just to come see me?”

Steve grinned, looking all too proud of himself, “Nah, she told me I was too chicken-shit to hit a girl and well…I wasn’t.” 

As his friend stepped to the side, Bucky found himself gaping again. Standing behind Steve was a slight woman with an amused smirk on her face, shoulder length hair in a shade of red that was only rivaled by the blood streaming from her nose. 

Bucky groaned and rushed to hand the woman some gauze, rounding on Steve as he gave her a moment to press it tentatively on her face, “So you punched out a damn civvie and brought her on-board for medical?”

“Not a civvie,” The redhead piped up, voice oddly muffled by the blood and gauze obstructing her nose, “Natasha Romanov, level 2, comms, as of today.” 

Bucky grimaced, “Welcome to the Marvel.” He verified her identity with his tablet and checked her in too before leading them to a set of exam beds. “Come on, morons, beds 7 and 8.”

Moments later, Rumlow was at Steve’s side, talking him through extending and rotating his arm before declaring the shoulder dislocated, and popping it back into place with very little warning and a yelp of pain from Steve. Bucky gave him a pointed look as he pouted, then turned his attention to Jane, where she was mopping up the blood from Natasha’s face, giving them a clearer view of her obviously broken nose. 

“Alright Barnes, this is your shot to get your hands dirty, ready?”

Bucky tamped down the panic and nodded, watching closely as Jane took a flash x-ray and traced the break with her finger, “Simple break, but we need to realign to the left so it’ll fuse straight.” 

Jane pulled a nasal spray from the supply-laden tray beside them and sprayed it up each nostril, then handed Bucky a thin metal rod. “We gently insert into the nostril, and pull to the right to kick the displaced bone back in line.”

His hand was nearly trembling, but he stepped up close to Natasha’s face, making eye contact with her for a moment, “Are you alright?” he asked timidly, flushing when he was rewarded with a smile. 

“Never been better. Go for it.”

Bucky steadied his hand and followed Jane’s instructions as she coached him over his shoulder. The bone and cartilage made a sick crunching pop, and Bucky winced as Natasha’s eyes watered. 

“Great job, Barnes. Welcome to medical. Bone fuser.” Jane was calm and sure, and Bucky stepped back, letting out the breath he didn’t know he’d been holding as he handed the bone fuser over so she could finish setting Natasha’s nose. 

When they were both good as new, Bucky discharged Steve and Natasha together, purposely punching Steve in his sore shoulder on their way out the door. 

Natasha stopped short and smirked at him, sending him a wink and a “Thanks, Handsome,” before she sauntered off down the hallway. 

Bucky  _ totally didn’t  _ watch the way her hips swayed in her civvie jeans as she walked, and he  _ definitely didn’t  _ meet Steve’s gaze, because he was very, very busy and did not have time for that idiot’s mirth. 

 


	3. Natasha

_ Earth Year 2444 _

_ Inter-Sol Transit _

_ The Marvel, Series 2 V.C. Shipping Vessel _

 

“Rookie! ID Patch?” Natasha barked, her best expectant glare falling on the young girl, whose eyes widened in panic, her hand flying to the empty space on her chest where her ID patch should have been.

The girl’s mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. Natasha took a beat, narrowed her eyes, and let the rookie sweat, before pointing towards the dormitory corridor and rolling her eyes, “Well go get it then!” she snapped, only allowing a tiny smile to cross her face as the girl trotted back in the direction she’d come, surely to retrieve her ID patch from her locker. 

Natasha would never  _ actually _ issue a citation, it just wasn't her style, but she did enjoy the ability to give the newbies a little scare...and maybe she just never stopped appreciating the power of being a level 2, finally on the ladder rather than on the ground looking up - even after three years. 

Realistically, Natasha was much more likely to  _ get _ a citation than give one. She'd spent three years on the Asgard, which had been a smaller ship with a smaller crew, that played a bit more fast and loose with rules and regulations than the Marvel - but they were also less efficient, trips took longer, accidents were more frequent...and crew members made fewer credits per port of call. Needless to say, the benefits of the different culture outweighed Natasha’s initial annoyance, so while it had been something to get used to, she had eventually embraced it.

Her first few months were littered with citations, but after a couple of trips to the First Mate’s office Natasha had gotten the hang of it. These days, she would never be caught in civvies during transit, even off duty. She always wore her ID patch. She was a rule-abiding crew member...except, of course, for the ridiculous non-fraternization policy.

Members of the Marvel crew were welcome to develop relationships, and they did - they were paired off left and right, across specialties and levels, some even married - but regardless of their relationships to one another, their living arrangements remained the same. Co-sleeping was not allowed.

Each level had a designated dormitory sector,  long corridors of sleeping pods - small rooms with lockers and bunks. The level 1 and 2 pods were built for two. Two lockers and  two twin-sized bunks, each surrounded by a privacy screen of dense steel mesh. Level 3 and 4 dormitories housed single occupancy pods, a larger locker to accommodate more belongings, a little bit of open “living space” that allegedly made it feel homier...and the same twin-sized bunk as everyone else.

The sleeping policy was, unsurprisingly, the least adhered to of any crew regulations. While some waited to take care of business off-ship, in station hotel rooms, many put those twin sized beds to use - hence the crick in Natasha’s neck, and the haste in her step as she made her way back to the level 2 dorm sector. 

She and Bucky had long since figured out how to game the system. As a level 2, no one in his dormitory would question her presence, and as long as she was back in her own pod in time to have her uniform flash cleaned before her shift...no harm, no foul. 

The rule was mostly intended to prevent crew pregnancies, anyway - something they were perfectly capable of avoiding all on their own. And avoid it they did. Aside from the fact that the Marvel was not at all a suitable environment for raising a child, Natasha wasn’t anywhere near ready for that sort of commitment. 

It was why things  _ worked _ so well between them. What they had was relaxed, low pressure.  

Sure, Bucky had pursued her from the moment she signed on with the Marvel, the day he’d had to set her broken nose in her first ten minutes aboard, but he was never aggressive about it. For the first few months it had seemed like his sweet, lazy smile was everywhere she turned, and maybe it annoyed her at first, maybe she had started with her guard up thinking he was playing a game, or passing the time, but soon it was Natasha that got caught staring at him across their shared table in the mess. He’d look over and catch her eye, and a soft flush would fill his cheeks, typically prompting a groan of annoyance or a quip about “getting a pod already” from Steve. 

Eventually they had - and they’d shared plenty of pod time since. 

Natasha had hit it off with Steve with much the same level of ease - they way he’d allowed her to tempt him into a fight upon their very first meeting had put him on her good side from the start. The crew of the Asgard were always up for a good spar, it was one of the things she missed most about her old crew, but she had a workout partner in Steve, and a great friendship in him and Bucky both.

She found that she fit in better with them than she had anywhere else before. 

Natasha was born on Chantilla, a mining planet in Theta Region, an inner ring of Sol III. Her parents were miners, or so she’d been told. They’d both killed in an unforeseen accident when she was still too young to remember them.

Chantilla, of all the Sol III planets, was the only terrestrial settlement. For years after its discovery, it had been billed as a paradise, settlers departing Sol I and II stations flocked to the gorgeous planet with open fields and breathable air. The children there grew up much like those in the rural and coastal parts of Earth - with the ability to run outside, roll in the yellow-green grass, build castles in the pale pink sand and swim in the grey-blue waters. 

The atmosphere supported life, but that also meant that the workers could extract the valuable ore from beneath the planet’s surface without the added precautions of airlocks and biosuits characteristic of the other Sol III mines. 

There were not one, but two fatal incidents of toxic gases seeping into the mines and killing hundreds of miners before SHIELD sent in a team to re-evaluate safety protocols. 

They had fixed things now, but that hadn’t meant much for Natasha, and the dozens of children that grew up in Chantilla’s UGE-sponsored orphanage with her. 

It hadn’t been a terrible childhood, there was always plenty to go around, and plenty to do, but Natasha spent her days wishing for two things, the parents she’d never get back and a ride off of the only planet she’d ever known. 

Thankfully, when she reached 17 and aged out of the orphanage, one of those two things was abundantly available. The mines in the region meant shipping vessels came and went regularly, their courses set for the furthest reaches of the galaxy. She’d hopped aboard the Asgard on her 17th birthday, settling into a level 1 berth in environmental, and never looking back. 

And now...well, now she still had no reason to look back, and plenty of reason to stay right where she was. 

Natasha reached her own pod and pressed her thumb into the access panel, stepping in quietly to avoid rousing her pod-mate. She quickly peeled off her uniform, breathing deeply the smell of Bucky that had come to be as comforting as any home she’d ever known, and dropped it into the laundry chute to have that smell stripped away. 

She’d be sure to rectify that situation as soon as she could.

 

*****

 

_ Earth Year 2445 _

_ Sol IV - Mu Region _

_ The Marvel, Series 2 V.C. Shipping Vessel _

 

“Steeevieeee” Bucky whined, earning him a glare from the librarian android, which in turn drew a snort from Natasha - she was amused partially that the android in the library was programmed to glare at noise-makers, and partially that Bucky, who was likely the most studious of them all, was having such trouble spending time in a quiet space. 

There must be a reason that he always studied in the dorms or the mess hall, rather than the dedicated space here at the library. 

It wasn’t a room full of books, like  Natasha had seen in old movies and novels. It wasn’t a room full of anything, actually. It was mostly empty, save for tables and comfortable chairs, good for long periods of time spent reading on one’s tablet, or working through one’s seminars. 

The librarian was programmed to help with research, to answer questions pertaining to VC seminars and certifications, even to provide reading, listening, or viewing recommendations based on a crew member’s particular interests, but study materials, literature, or entertainment of any kind was all available to them on their own tablets - a perk of being a part of the Voyager Company. 

So while “library” was the name for the space, it was simply the place on board where peace and quiet was most assured. Steve loved it here, Bucky could only tolerate it for so long, and Natasha could fall on either side, depending on the day. 

Today she’d been mostly wrapped up in her activity on her tablet. She’d started off the day studying, she was taking seminars for a level 3 comms certification, as well as level 2 nav, though she kept the latter a little closer to the belt, her business wasn’t for everyone to know. 

Steve, however, knew perfectly well about her seminars. He was the champion of overlapping certifications. Though he still resided in mess - he was a level 2 there now, an automatic promotion after 4 years in the discipline - he was racking up other certs at an unbelievable speed. He was certified for level 2 in nav, comms,  _ and _ environmental, and was working towards level 3 nav and level 2 engineering. He’d be a first mate in a matter of years at this rate - maybe even a captain of his own vessel, if he wanted to be. 

Natasha was impressed. It was why she’d gone to him with her decision to start her nav certifications as well. He’d been encouraging, had offered to help her study or give her pointers if she ran into any confusion. “The more certifications between the three of us, the easier it’ll be when we want to move up, on the Marvel, or any other ship.” he’d said.

We. She wasn’t sure when she’d become a part of Bucky and Steve’s “we” but it felt good. Warm. 

And it was, in part, the reason that she was sitting here, tablet momentarily forgotten as she watched Bucky poke at Steve’s face, the blonde’s brow furrowing in annoyance as he got closer and closer to the point where he could no longer ignore his best friend.

“Stevie!” Bucky said again, a whisper this time, just quiet enough that the android didn’t hear him over the ever-present hum of the ship’s complex machinery all around them.  

“What?!” Steve finally hissed back, looking up from his tablet and the ship schematics he’d been carefully looking over for his engineering seminar.

Bucky pouted at the tone, but it was short lived as he reveled in having achieved his goal of annoying Steve into paying attention. “Nat and I want to go do something fun.” he stated, drawing an incredulous eyebrow raise from Natasha.

Even Steve grinned then, “It doesn’t look like you’ve consulted Nat on this, pal.”

Bucky looked to her for backup, and Natasha shook her head, smirking as she looked back down at her tablet, tilted carefully away from prying eyes. 

She had plenty of seminar work to do, sure, but that wasn’t  _ exactly _ what she’d been working on so studiously in the past hour or so. 

When studying lost its appeal, she’d turned to the messaging platform to check in on a friend of hers that she’d met in a rather unconventional way...

Upon the realization that Steve and Bucky expected her to stick with them when they left this crew, Natasha had done a little digging. Research first into the Voyager Company, then frequency of open berths, the best stations to find them, insight into how to secure a competitive spot, etc. 

What she had discovered was that like on the Marvel, open berths were announced to existing crew members first, so a lot of them got snatched up before anyone on another ship could even see them. Armed with that knowledge, she’d remembered her early comms seminars, where she’d learned that in the early days of the Voyager Company, each ship was connected by a rudimentary network that let them communicate with each other, so long as they were in the same system. 

A few weeks of poking around in the Marvel’s systems and tweaking her own tablet in ways that wasn’t  _ strictly _ allowed, and she’d found that she was able to link into any VC ship in Sol V. She had no permissions, could access no files, no schematics, manifests, or crew schedules, but she could see their public boards, where important announcements were available to everyone linked to the ship’s main network.

It wasn’t all that different from checking the listings at the VC kiosk of an upcoming port, it was just like getting an advance copy of what was available. 

A few ships into her search, a message had popped up on her screen:

**_Barton, C_ ** _ : I’m pretty sure ghosting into another ship’s network comes with a pretty big citation from the Company. _

Natasha had stared at it for a moment in silence, heartbeat racing as she cursed herself for not hiding her activity well enough. She was about to back out of the system and cut off the connection when another message appeared:

**_Barton, C:_ ** _ Impressive though. If you’re looking for a new berth I could put a word in with my first mate...I could teach you how to do it without getting caught.  _

That was…not what she’d expected.

After a moment she’d sent back:  _ Depends, is your crew worth joining?  _ And they’d continued from there.

She quickly learned that Clint was in comms on a newer ship, the crew was “interesting but effective” and littered with openings that had yet to be filled since their maiden voyage a few months before, which wasn’t uncommon this far out in the galaxy.

Natasha had eventually explained the situation, that she was looking for not one berth, but three, and they had to be together. Clint had asked for their Company ID numbers and promised to do what he could to help.

That had been two months ago. 

Now, she checked in with Clint every few days. Sometimes they’d chat for a bit about being on duty, or their seminars, sometimes they’d get straight down to business where Clint would tell her he was “working on it” or “had something coming down the line.”

She wasn’t sure anymore that Clint had the pull he’d claimed to have with his crew, but today the message was different. 

**_Barton, C:_ ** _ Prepared to love me more than you already do?  _

**_Romanov, N:_ ** _ Bold of you to assume I already do. _

**_Barton, C:_ ** _ Be nice, or I’ll keep your presents. _

Before she had the chance to respond, an alert popped up on her tablet, an official communication from the Voyager Company, with only a short post-script to assure her it came from Clint. 

_ Thank me later. - C _

She looked up, opened-mouthed, at her two best friends who were still bickering quietly across the table at each other. 

“Boys, shut it. We’ve got a more important topic to discuss.”

They stopped and looked over at her, Steve looking relieved to have the interruption, Bucky still pouting, at least for the moment. 

She flipped her tablet around for them to see the info that filled the screen:

 

_ The Avenger - Series 5 V.C. Shipping Vessel _

_ Navigation, Level 2 - Open _

 

_ The Avenger - Series 5 V.C. Shipping Vessel _

_ Medical, Level 3 - Open _

 

_ The Avenger - Series 5 V.C. Shipping Vessel _

_ Communications, Level 2 - Open _

 

“Well shit, I better pass my level 3 cert next week.”


	4. Clint

_ Earth Year 2446 _

_ Sol V - Xi Region _

_ The Avenger, Series 5 V.C. Shipping Vessel _

 

“A little more. Liiiittle more. Good. Thanks!” Clint gave a chipper wave to the mess attendant and carried his plate of waffles, now towering with whipped cream, to the table where his friends had gathered to eat their breakfast. 

They were fresh out of port, so the mess hall was full of crew members, all recovering from their nights out on-station and gearing up to get back into the groove of transit. A few months ago, it would have been hard for him to find a seat in the midst of the bustling crowd. Until recently, the only people he spent any time with were the other comms crew, when he was working, and Phil, when he wasn’t. That had meant he’d spent a lot of meals alone - Phil was first mate, after all. He had responsibilities that meant Clint ‘couldn’t just lurk around him all the time.’ Whatever. 

Anyway, now, a seat was waiting for him, an open stretch of table with someone’s navy uniform jacket draped over the bench below it. Steve’s, probably, since Steve was the one sitting next to it, picking through a plate of berries while across from him Natasha swiped bacon off Bucky’s plate, earning a glare that was just too fond to hold any annoyance.  

“Clint what is that monstrosity?!” Bucky asked, his face the picture of concerned awe as he took in Clint’s pile of delightful sweet breakfast. 

Clint grinned, settling down at the table and digging in to his breakfast. “You can’t judge me until you’ve had chef’s waffles covered in whipped cream.” he said through a mouthful. 

Natasha just handed him a napkin with amusement and directed them back to their conversation. 

“So he’s kinda scary, sure, but you’re never going to get anywhere if you don’t cozy up to him. Play it right and you’ll be captain yourself in no time.”

“Yeah,” Bucky chimed in, “Captain of  _ our _ ship.”

Steve opened his mouth to respond, but Clint cut him off, “You guys talking about Fury?”

They nodded and he chuckled, “He’s not nearly as scary as he seems. Eye patch does all the work for him. Phil says he even laughs sometimes.” 

Steve looked wary, “I can’t even imagine that.” 

Nick Fury, a retired SHIELD officer, was the captain of the Avenger, and he put on a very menacing front, never mind that his crew policies were pretty relaxed, and his chiefs had - essentially - full reign over their disciplines. He walked around with a scowl and a black eye patch and just generally looked unapproachable. 

According to Phil, he got a bit of a kick out of everyone being scared of him. Clint figured Phil would know. He was the first mate, the second in command of the whole vessel, and the one who called the shots as far as crew management went. He was HR and internal affairs rolled into one, and he was awesome at it, because he was good with people, and a great judge of character. 

Phil had plucked Clint from his boring but comfortable job maintaining the Sol V info beacon and asked him onboard the Avenger for her maiden voyage, fast tracked him to a level 3 comms cert because he ‘saw potential’ in him. 

That had been a few years ago now, and Clint had to admit, he’d been right. This was a much more exciting job than his old one, and getting to see the galaxy...well that wasn’t half bad. 

“How is everything going with our newest recruits?”

As though Clint’s borderline sappy thoughts had summoned him, Phil’s voice sounded from off to his left, where the first mate stood at the head of their table, looking down at them all with an easy smile. 

“Everything is going very well, Sir. We’re glad to be aboard,” Steve answered back politely, a matching smile on his face. 

“That’s great to hear. Let me know if there’s anything we can do for you, now that you’ve had time to settle in.”

They all nodded their agreement and Clint grinned up at him, “Thanks, Phil,” he intoned, purposefully casual because it was funny to see the flash of annoyance just under the surface of Phil’s calm, and well, because Clint was a little shit. 

To his credit, Phil ignored Clint and turned to Bucky. “Mr. Barnes, I wanted to see if you can swing by engineering on your way to your shift this morning, there’s been an...incident.” His words were careful but Clint could see his exasperation, having been the cause of it as frequently as he could in the past. 

Bucky’s demeanor quickly shifted from relaxed to focused, his spine straightening, the arm he’d had draped around Natasha’s waist drawing back in to his side, “Is everyone okay?”

Phil held up a hand to stave off any further worry, “No emergency protocols, our engineering chief is just a little banged up. Shouldn’t need more than the first-aid kit on deck. Finish your breakfast, please, then head down.”

With that, Phil was off to visit other tables, say hello to more new recruits and exchanging handshakes with the older crew. 

“Nat, who’s…” Bucky started to ask, but she’d already pulled the record up on her tablet.   
  
Clint didn’t need a file to answer, “Tony Stark, he’s the chief of engineering, passed his level 4 cert at 15. He’s an actual genius, but also kind of a madman. Spends his free time tricking out the ship. We’ve been battling to keep him from replacing the whole comms division with an AI for the past year or so.”

“His medical file is  _ seventy pages,” _ Bucky gaped, having pulled it up on his own tablet with his med clearance.

Clint shrugged, “He likes to blow stuff up.” 

With a bit of a panicked look, Bucky scarfed down his last piece of bacon and stood, kissing Nat quickly on the temple. “I guess I gotta go see what the hell he’s done now.” He sounded equal parts concerned and intrigued as he rushed from the mess hall, royal blue scrubs retreating towards the engineering deck. 

“Admittedly, his posting should have come with a warning about Stark, but I didn’t want you guys to turn down the berths.” Clint grinned and dug back into his waffles.

 

*****

 

_ Earth Year 2447 _

_ Inter-Sol Transit _

_ The Avenger, Series 5 V.C. Shipping Vessel _

 

“Nat.”

“Naaat.”

“Natashaaaa!”

“What, Clinton, what?! You’re as bad as Bucky, I swear.” 

Clint beamed as Natasha finally looked up at him from the screen in front of her. 

This was possibly the best thing that had come out of bringing Nat, Steve, and Bucky on board well over a year ago.

The Avenger had reached full crew capacity, and that meant that the comms center always had at least two crew members at a time. Since he’d pulled her in and was her direct supervisor, that meant more often than not, Clint and Natasha shared shifts in the space. 

It was a big windowless room just above the bridge, a wall of screen faced the entrance, while two rows of individual consoles filled the center of the space, and along the side walls lived the processors that comprised the bulk of their comms tech. Clint could do just about anything with the processing power and beacon tech set up in here, but it was nice to have some human company. 

“I’m bored.” 

They were in the middle of a long journey, taking a bay full of cargo to a station two whole systems away from its origin point. It meant over a month of faster-than-light travel, more than 30 days without any inter-ship contact, no station beacons to surf through, only Voyager Company data dumps every few days. 

For a while, Clint’s job had been to sift through them and pull out the personnel profiles that seemed promising as they built their crew - a personal assignment from Phil. Now that they were crewed, however, that job was done, and environmental updates and fleet shipping manifests weren’t nearly as interesting. Clint didn’t  _ care _ that the Milano had successfully delivered their 2 tons of ore to Doelara. He was bored. 

“You could study for your level 4 certification.” Natasha suggested blandly, eyes going back to the screen where it looked like she was flipping through V.C. files. 

Clint rolled his eyes. Why were his new friends so focused on  _ studying _ all the time? Bucky with his medical seminars and Steve taking every test he could get, and Natasha, who  _ already had _ her level 3 comms cert and was now working on getting it in navigation as well?? Not that she’d shared that information, but Clint worked in communications. He knew how to get into Phil’s files - he’d written the encryption himself, after all. 

“I passed my level 4 ages ago. What are you working on?”

This time Natasha stopped and gave him her full attention. 

“Clint Barton, you took your level 4 certification exam and you  _ didn’t tell anyone _ ?!” She asked in exasperation, though there was a hint of a proud smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. 

Clint just shrugged, “Didn’t feel all that important.”

“Not important?! Clint! You could get a level 4 berth now, you could be a division chief. It’s a little bit of a big deal, actually.”

“Sure, maybe, it’s just not relevant, is all. There’s only one level 4 comms berth on a series 5 ship, and Banner’s not going anywhere anytime soon.”

Natasha didn’t answer, just gazed at him searchingly, the silence drawing out between them as her piercing stare made him increasingly twitchy. 

“Please stop staring into my soul and just tell me what you’re working on,” he insisted finally, heading off any declaration she might make that he’d have to leave the Avenger eventually, or that he was selling himself short, or whatever else she might be thinking in that impenetrable mind of hers. 

She benevolently acquiesced, punching a series of keys that would mirror her console screen to the wall in front of them, showing that she’d been reading up on V.C. ships. The Avenger’s library files would have specs on every series of ship still in use from 1 to 9, and Natasha was reading up on the smaller ships.

“Series 8 and 9 vessels? You must be as bored as I am, why didn’t you say something?” he joked, though somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew why she was looking. 

Clint’s friends really were all focused on moving up. They studied all the time, and spoke wistfully of their own ship. It was just passing conversation from the outside, but when once you knew them well enough, it was obvious that they meant it. 

That didn’t mean it was easy for Clint to wrap his head around. His life had really taken a turn for the better when those three joined his crew. It was hard to think about them moving on for another vessel, leaving him to his solitude and what time he could manage to get with Phil. Well, there’d be Natasha’s replacement for him to spend time with, though it seemed unlikely that he’d be able to find someone quite as quick on the uptake as she was along with other qualities he’d miss. 

Clint broke from his thoughts to find Natasha looking at him, eyes soft. 

“They have the same crew capacity, the 8 and the 9. Just a captain, and a chief for each of the six specialties. The 8 has double the cargo space, and extra sleeping pods. For families.” She clicked through the specs of the ships, where she’d pulled them up in dual screen comparison. 

Clint already knew this information. He’d read just about every V.C. file in the long hours he’d spent sitting his comms shift alone. “Guess that’s a chat you and Bucky need to have.” He tossed back with a salacious grin, even if his heart wasn’t totally in it. He was already focused back on his own screen, typing away as he pulled up the files he was looking for. 

He carefully avoided the look Natasha was giving him, the one that said, ‘there’s room for you too, idiot,’ and commandeered the wall screen, mirroring his own where he’d pulled up some surveillance footage from the week before. “And maybe Steve, too,” he continued, his amusement more genuine as he hit play, waiting for the scene he’d witnessed days ago to play out again. 

The silent clip showed Steve in the gymnasium, going to town on a punching bag, brow focused, back flexing with the effort. Then a pretty blonde walked over to him, gave him a flirty smile and spoke some indecipherable words that caused Steve to falter, and flush, the punching bag swinging back towards him and knocking him off balance in his distraction. The bright red of his face and the woman’s laughter were both intense enough to translate even over the low-quality surveillance feed. “I wish I knew what she said to him to get him so flustered,” Clint chuckled, pulling up another video that showed a similar incident in the library, which he’d follow with one more that ended with Steve’s lunch overturned on the mess hall floor.

“Oh poor Steve. He has no clue how to talk to people.” Natasha giggled, actively allowing Clint to change the subject as she leaned in to this new activity. “Where did you get all of these?”  

“I told you, I was bored.”

  
  


*****

 

_ Earth Year 2449 _

_ Sol III - Iota Region _

_ The Avenger, Series 5 V.C. Shipping Vessel _

 

“I can’t believe it’s over. After all this time. I’m done.”

Clint, Natasha, Bucky, and Steve were spread out over two couches in the cozy level 3 lounge, their favorite place to spend time now that all of them had moved into berths that put them in the same level. 

They were celebrating Bucky today, since he’d completed the final medical seminar, logged the minimum number of hours worked, and just this morning, successfully passed his level 4 medical certification. He was the last of them to reach a max cert, but his was the most competitive field, and sat right alongside engineering with the most intensive seminar and experience requirements. 

There was a new sort of relaxation that fell over the four of them. A satisfaction that wasn’t Bucky’s alone, but that belonged to all of them, for having a part in this small group of people accomplishing their goals. They’d all sat hours in the library as Steve and Natasha worked out FTL equations together for their navigation exams, quizzed Steve on ship filtration specs for his environmental, and sat in med bay as a fake patient for Bucky to go through treatment of their illness whenever they were needed. 

It was a group accomplishment and along with it came a sense of belonging to and with these people that Clint had never felt anywhere, with anyone else before. 

“Dr. Barnes!!” Steve cheered, and raised a tiny cupcake in the air. They’d been a gift from Happy, the mess chief, who knew that today was the big day for Bucky, and broke all kinds of protocols to bake him something special. He was an incredible cook, and adored Bucky and Steve since they’d both started in mess and always took the time to chat with him when they came in for meals.

They all echoed Steve’s cheer and tapped their cupcakes together in a silly little toast to their friend. 

“No more faking stomach aches to help you study,” Steve grinned. 

“And no more sitting in the library for literally  _ hours _ while you guys read!” Clint added. 

Bucky laughed, “No more trekking down to engineering to patch up Stark while I’m trying to study.”

Natasha smirked over at her boyfriend, “We still get to play doctor though, right?” she asked suggestively, running a hand up Bucky’s thigh. 

Bucky’s response was (thankfully) drowned out by Steve nearly choking on his cupcake and Clint cackling which lead the rest of them into a bout of laughter. 

Eventually they faded into a comfortable silence and Steve dropped his head back to look up at the metal ceiling, “Guys we could actually do anything now. We’re nearly a whole crew.” He sighed wistfully. 

Bucky smiled warmly at Steve, then the rest of the group. “Maybe...maybe it’s time to start looking? No rush, but...these things take time.” 

“Actually…” Clint spoke up softly, much more softly than he usually spoke, which drew the attention of the group much more efficiently than a yell. (Even in a moment like this, he filed that notion away for later.)

Clint slid his tablet out of the pocket of his navy jacket, pulled up the papers he’d been sorting through for the past week, and linked them to his friends’ own tablets, before he could change his mind. 

“This....” he started as they all pulled out their own devices to look at the papers, “Is the Howling Commando. She’s a brand new series 8 vessel, at the shipyard on Azzano. I’ve already put in a charter inquiry with the Company, and done a little back channeling to look for mess, engineering, and environmental chiefs. There’s a couple of guys that look promising on Heritage Station.”

They all looked at him for a moment, a giant smile blooming across Steve’s face, a nervous excitement on Bucky’s, and a knowing smirk on Natasha’s. 

“No search for a comms chief?” she asked pointedly. 

Clint grinned, “Hell nah, you’ve got a comms chief right here.”


	5. Scott & Luis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW in this chapter for talk of divorce, nothing too intense but better safe than sorry.

_ Earth Year 2444 _

_ Sol II - Epsilon Region _

_ Heritage Station - Residential Sector 3 _

 

Scott dropped a crate of clothes onto the coffee table of his sleek new apartment and flopped down on the couch, propping his feet up just beside it. “I don’t want to carry a single box, ever again,” he grumbled, flailing his arms around as if to display how noodly they felt from the exertion of the afternoon. “Why can’t they program an android to do this for us?”

“Manual labor builds character, Scotty!” Luis answered back, dropping his own crate on the floor and settling into a chair off to the side. At Scott’s raised eyebrow he shrugged, “That’s what my Abuela says, at least.” 

“Oh, well if your Abuela says…” Scott snarked back, opening and closing his fists to get the blood pumping through his fingers again. 

Luis shot him a halfhearted glare, “Not cool man, I don’t appreciate you referencing my sweet Abuela in a sarcastic tone.”

Scott sighed, looking up at the ceiling. “Sorry, man. I’m just on edge and I’m tired. Thank you, by the way, for doing this.”

The bright grin was back on Luis’s face in an instant, “Anytime. We’re gonna have good times in this new place.” He stood from the chair and stretched, “I gotta go though, my shift starts soon. See you at dinner though?”

Scott nodded and watched his new roommate walk out the door. 

If you’d asked him five years ago, twenty-five and moving in with a roommate was not a place Scott ever would have expected to be. Of course, five years ago he was head over heels in love with Maggie Rae and couldn’t picture any future that didn’t involve being with her.

They met in their seminars at 15 and had been attached at the hip from then on. By the time they were 20 - legally 3 years into adulthood by UGE standards - they thought they were ready to commit to a life together. He’d imagined they would get married and start a family and live and work here on Heritage Station, just like his parents did. 

By 23, two years into their marriage, Scott had a nice government job, working in station upkeep and maintenance. It paid well enough, and they provided free seminars and as a bonus, a nice apartment in residential sector 1, big enough to start a family. He was ready to put roots down, get started on their future...and that was when Maggie’s wonderlust had set in.

She wanted to travel the galaxy, wanted to visit the other solar systems, see the sapphire rains of the Xi Region planets, breath the atmosphere of Earth, touch the pink sands of Chantilla...

It had taken about a year of arguing and searching for compromises for them to realize that they had never really been on the same page about their future, it had always seemed so abstract until they needed to make a real plan. 

Scott’s realization that it was over came just around the time that he met Luis. Luis was new to Heritage, which was strange in and of itself, but then he’d sat, uninvited, next to a brooding Scott in the employee mess hall at work and chatted his ear off. With the mood he was in at the time, Scott had been as unwelcoming as possible, but it didn’t deter Luis in the slightest.

What started out as an annoying interaction turned into some of the only real talking Scott did anymore, and eventually it became a soothing companionship when Scott realized that Luis was just as good at listening as he was at talking...even if Scott’s stories were a lot sadder and substantially more succinct.

As Scott’s divorce progressed, their friendship did too, and by this point they were essentially inseparable, so this, today,  was the logical move - literally.

They had eventually come to the decision together that Scott living in the quarters he’d shared with Maggie wasn’t good for his mental stability. So today, the day that she was scheduled to catch a passenger ship off station and start her journey, Scott moved out of their marital home, and into this - admittedly spacious - apartment he’d be sharing with Luis for the foreseeable future. 

It was employee housing, very similar to the one he’d come from, with two bedrooms instead of one, a slightly smaller kitchen, but a bigger living room with a huge screen on the wall to dock a tablet in. Perhaps best of all was the big window to one side. Scott pushed a button on the frame and the screen withdrew, showing him the other side of the station nearby, in the mid-distance, the bluish ball of gas that was Heritage, the planet around which his home orbited, and beyond that, open space, inky black and full of stars. He’d never not love that sight. 

Scott allowed himself to gaze wistfully out the window for a moment or two, then set about unpacking his crates so he’d feel like he’d accomplished something before he went to eat with Luis at the end of dinner service that night. 

 

*****

 

_ Earth Year 2449  _

_ Sol II - Epsilon Region _

_ Heritage Station - Employee Mess Hall _

  
  


Luis hummed a little tune to himself, as he cooked, the sizzling of vegetables in the pan all the background music he needed, and the spin and shuffle of pots and pans, spices and utensils were as good as a dance as he whipped up one of his mother’s favorite recipes from memory. 

He loved days like this. Days when he got the kitchen to himself, a Saturday in the mess hall when traffic would be low as the station employees spent their weekends with family or off on short little vacations. The skeleton crew that was actually on duty for a weekend lunch would pop in here and there and grab a plate to take with them, some of the off-duty personnel would stop in too, but there would be no rush today. 

Today, he got to put a little more care into it, a little more fun, and a little more love. Saturday was Luis’s day to play in the kitchen. Add in the sweet smell of his mother’s recipe and his spirits were soaring.

It took him back to a simpler time, sitting in the big kitchen of his family’s ship, watching her cook as her hips swayed to the music on the mess hall channel. She cooked every meal with love, because she wasn’t just feeding a crew, she was feeding her family. 

Each and every member of the ship’s crew was family. One or two were married in, but most of them were related by blood. Luis was constantly surrounded by aunts and uncles, siblings, cousins, every relation was there on that ship, and for years and years, it was all he ever knew. 

He’d grown up in a shipping family, they worked and lived and raised their children right there on their Voyager Company vessel. He took his seminars on a tablet like every other kid in the galaxy, but like the rest of his family, he started to learn one of the shipping crew specialties when he was far too young to actually work for the Company. 

Luis was just a kid helping his mom in the kitchen, until one day he wasn’t. As a teenager he logged apprentice hours, and took V.C. certification exams. Even though he never actually held a berth on his parents’ ship, he learned. He learned about cooking and food, service and sanitation, stores and logistics. 

He spent his young adult years thinking he’d just eventually take over for his mother - that she’d step into the familial passenger role while he took on her berth. 

It had been a shock at 23 to learn that his parents were retiring, but not to be passengers. They’d grown tired of the shipping lifestyle, they wanted somewhere small and comfortable to retire in peace. They’d be able to live very comfortably on the credits their ship would sell for. 

And so they’d retired. Dropped off their vessel at the shipyard on Azzano and taken a hopper to Heritage, where they lived in a quaint apartment and enjoyed small station life. 

The family had scattered, some stayed on Azzano to find station or shipyard jobs, others joined new crews. Luis followed his parents to Heritage, unsure of what he wanted. He’d never considered anything other than the family ship. 

A chef job in the Heritage Station employee mess hall had come easily, given his Voyager Company certifications, and he’d found a friend right off the bat in Scott (well, maybe not right off the bat, but the man had come around), and so Luis had embraced his new life, on-station. 

It had been about five years since the move to Heritage, and his apartment with Scott, and more than ever, Luis was itching to get off. He liked the change of scene that came with shipping. There was the soothing mix of new places and people all through the galaxy and the safety and familiarity of the home they could take anywhere.

So, Luis had spent the last year of his life trying to convince Scott that they should join a crew, leave this place behind and get out of the five-year rut they were stuck in. 

The idea finally gained a little traction when Luis had accidentally blurted out that Scott didn’t exactly have anything going for him on Heritage, so leaving couldn’t really make things worse. 

They’d spent an icy few days moving around each other in silence that not even Luis could break until Scott had grudgingly admitted he was right, and taken the V.C. certification exams Luis had been pushing for. 

Luis flicked off the industrial stove and turned to where his meal had come together, ready to serve to the few people lucky enough to step into his mess hall today. He left a generous amount out in the serving line, and gathered the plates he’d set aside for himself and Scott, taking them over to where his friend was already settled at the table in the corner that was unofficially ‘theirs.’

“I got news, my friend.” He exclaimed, even as he slid the plate of hot food in front of Scott.

A testament to their friendship, Scott said nothing, but dug into his lunch and waited, knowing that Luis would continue whether prompted or not.

“So Lisa who works in HR came in the other day and introduced me to that new kid, Peter, who’s working in comms and is like  _ mad smart _ , and he looked like he needed someone to talk to, so naturally, being the friendly guy that I am, I sat down and chatted with him for a while and he was telling me all this stuff about how his aunt that raised him came to Heritage to work, and even though he didn’t need to come with her since he’s 17, he did anyway - which I got respect for man, because she raised this kid all on her own and he’s a chill enough kid to stick with her when the tables are turned, which is just beautiful, you know? But anyway we got talking about how he’s so young and he already knows all this stuff about comms and he told me about how you can get into the files of every V.C. ship in the whole solar system if you just know what signals to link your tablet into, and so I asked him about new ships at the shipyard at Azzano and he said, ‘yeah, even those brand new ships got files I can peek into with my skills,’ so I told him that you and me were thinking about joining a crew on like a small 8 or 9 series and he said he’d keep an eye out, and today he told me that this chick over at Azzano heard from her boyfriend who works for Voyager Company that his boss just signed a charter for a new ship that this guy Clint is starting with his friends, and they’ve got open spots that aren’t even posted yet but Peter can get us on their radar before they’re even officially looking!” 

“So you found us a crew in Azzano?” Scott asked, his eyes alight with amusement.

“Yeah!”

 

*****

 

_ Earth Year 2449  _

_ Sol II - Epsilon Region _

_ Azzano Station - The Shipyard _

 

Tying up loose ends on Heritage Station was shockingly easy. Scott had expected a little bit…well, more. More difficulty ending his employment, cleaning out his apartment, saying goodbye to his parents. (They were excited that he was finally going ‘off to live a life’ instead of sticking around on his home station.)

Luis had gotten the same reaction from his family, and before long, they were on their way, leaving everything behind for something entirely new. 

Scott was terrified. He’d only been off of Heritage Station for a couple vacations as a kid, and otherwise it was where he’d spent his entire life. 

He didn’t know what to expect, and honestly, it was more than a little troubling to him that they were putting all of their faith in these Voyager Company berths when it wasn’t totally official yet. They’d both registered with the Company and formally applied for the positions. For a level 4, however, there was a requisite interview with at least the first mate, and sometimes the captain. Luis insisted that it was basically a formality, but Scott figured for a new ship and a first time captain, the interview was going to mean a lot. 

The entire hopper ride to Azzano, he kept telling himself that they were nice guys, good guys. Everyone on Heritage loved them. Why would this crew be any different? 

Of course, when they docked and the passengers of their small hopper spilled out into the corridors of Azzano Station, his worried faded as excitement ran through him. Azzano was far from the largest station in the galaxy, but it was the biggest in Epsilon Region, and aside from those couple of vacations, it was the biggest Scott had ever seen. 

They followed the flow of traffic down the thin corridor from the hopper station into the main hall of the shipyard, and Scott’s mouth fell open in wonder, gazing up at the textured glass high above them, and the sights and sounds all around them. It was said that Azzano was modeled after Mars Station, the longest standing shipyard in the galaxy, and a neighbor to the origin planet of Earth. Scott had trouble imagining that way out there in another solar system there was this, but  _ even bigger _ .

“Pick your jaw up off the floor, Scotty, there’s the V.C. kiosk.”

Scott was perfectly aware that Luis was old hat at this, maneuvering through strange stations, seeing incredible sights, and he was also aware that his friend was getting a kick out of Scott’s awe. He didn’t mind. His brain was too busy trying to compute everything he was seeing, so he just let Luis pull him towards the kiosk, coming back to himself as they stood in front of a handsome man, only a lack of blinking to indicate that he was an android. 

The bot launched into what was surely a rousing recruitment spiel, but Luis headed it off by scanning his tablet. 

“Welcome back, Luis! Please proceed to dock B24 immediately for your interview aboard the Howling Commando.”

Scott followed suit, scanning his tablet at the android’s counter. 

“Welcome to the Voyager Company, Lang, Scott E. H.! Please proceed to dock B24 immediately for your interview aboard the Howling Commando.”

Scott looked between the android and his friend for a moment, eyes narrowing in curiosity even as Luis started walking away, obviously headed towards dock B24 because unlike Scott, he somehow knew how to get around in this massive place. 

“Wait wait wait,” Scott said, trailing after an intent Luis, who did not, in fact, wait. “Why am I ‘Lang, Scott E. H.’ and you’re just  _ Luis _ ?” he asked petulantly.

Luis chuckled, shrugging his shoulders. “That’s my name. Luis.” 

Scott stopped in his tracks, realizing then and there that somehow he’d never actually learned Luis’s last name. 

“Okay, but what’s your last name?” Maybe he was latching on to something inconsequential because it was too much to focus on what was actually happening right now, but Scott was suddenly filled with the burning desire to know, jogging to catch back up with Luis who never stopped walking. 

“No last name. Just Luis. My cousin, Carlos? Just Carlos.”

They turned down a narrow corridor and stopped in front of a big door labeled B24. Scott was still trying to wrap his mind around Luis being...just Luis, when a voice rang out down the corridor behind them. 

“I’m just saying, if you’re both going to be sleeping in the same place all the time anyway, what point is there to issue you two separate rooms?” 

“Hmm, maybe because I’m the first mate and what I say goes? Is that enough reason for you, Clinton?”

Three people had just turned down into the corridor, the blonde man bickering back and forth with the redheaded lady while a brunette with a prosthetic arm trailed after them, arms full of what looked like uniforms, all black canvas and yellow cotton. 

The trio stopped at the B24 door and the blonde grinned at them, “You must be Scott and Luis?” He held out a hand to shake each of theirs before pressing his thumb into the scanner by the door to open it, “I’m Clint, come on in and we’ll get some proper introductions.”

Scott and Luis followed Clint into the ship with the others trailing behind. Scott let his eyes wander, taking in the corridors of the ship, and he was comforted to see that it had a distinctly similar feel to Heritage Station. 

They ended up in a cozy looking lounge space, a rug, sofas, and chairs with throw pillows made it seem more like a family living room than a workplace lounge. This must have been what Luis’s ship had been like growing up. 

Another blonde sat in a cushy chair scrolling through what looked like ship specs on his tablet. He looked up at them with a smile. 

When he stood, Scott had to fight gaping once again, because this was the tallest dude Scott had ever seen, but he managed to keep his mouth shut for once and just offer a wave. 

“I’m Steve Rogers, the captain,” he introduced himself, the hint of a proud smile the only indication that he hadn’t worn that title for years and years, “That’s Natasha Romanoff, first mate and navigation chief, Clint Barton, our comms chief, and Dr. Bucky Barnes, chief of medical.” They each gave a little wave or nod at their names and Scott did his best friendly smile in greeting. “You must be…?” Steve looked at him expectantly, and after a moment, Scott realized he was supposed to introduce himself. 

“That’s Scotty. Scott Lang, and I’m Luis.” Luis jumped in, reaching out to shake Steve’s hand. “Don’t mind Scotty, he’s hardly ever been off station before. He’s a genius though, almost as genius as I am in the kitchen. I-”

Luis went to keep talking, and just as Scott had the thought that someone should probably stop him, Clint did just that.

“That’s good, because there’s only four restaurants in the shipyard sector and we’re tired of them after only a couple weeks,” he laughed, and Luis grinned.

“Don’t worry, I got you, grew up on a ship just like this one and cooked every meal for my whole family, been working in station mess over on heritage for the past few years, that’s where I met Scotty, and I think everyone on that whole station ate better while I was there. Just point me to a kitchen and I will blow your minds.”

They were all smiling. That was good. Scott could work with smiling. Why was he so nervous? Luis was doing just fine. 

“Sounds great, Luis…just Luis?” Steve was looking at their profiles on his tablet now, and damnit, maybe Luis was really just Luis.

“Just Luis.” he confirmed. 

“Alright. And Scott, It looks like you put in for engineering and environmental chief. You have a preference? I’m hoping for a dedicated chief for each specialty.”

Steve was looking at him expectantly, Scott opened and closed his mouth a couple times, and concern crossed the captain’s face. He felt a light kick to his leg - Luis trying to get him to just  _ say something _ already. 

“I uh, yeah, yes! Yes. I’ve been working in engineering on Heritage Station since I was 15, and since it’s a non-traveling unit most of the environmental duties are tied into that.” He was fine, they’d practiced for this question. Scott was an asset to this crew that they didn’t even know they needed. “I’ve passed the level 4 certifications for both, and while it might not be a permanent arrangement, I know you need a level 4 in every specialty on your crew to get Company approval for your maiden voyage. I have the skills and the knowhow to fill both positions long enough to get us up and running, Cap. I mean, uh, Captain.” He finished with a big grin, looking first to Steve, then the rest. 

They all looked amused, and maybe the redhead’s smirk was a little scary, but Scott thought he’d done alright. 

Steve looked at him appraisingly, then back and forth between him and Luis for a moment before nodding definitively. “Alright. Nat will get you set up with rooms and uniforms, we don’t have an android on board, so you can get your ID patches printed back at the kiosk on station. Welcome to the Howling Commando.” 


	6. Sam

_Earth Year 2451_

_Inter-Sol Transit_

_The Howling Commando, Series 8 V.C. Shipping Vessel_

 

Steve leaned back in his chair, gazing around at his crew with an amused smile. They were waiting for dinner. Their little mess hall - which was really more like a dining room than an actual mess hall - was bustling with noise and activity as they lingered around the table.

Nat sat at one head of the table, watching with the most innocent face possible as Bucky affixed a medi-patch to Clint’s eye. Their pre-dinner sparring match in the gym had apparently gone a little too far, or maybe they were just ‘damn idiots hurting each other for no reason’ as Bucky grumbled under his breath all the while.

Luis, bless him, was in the kitchen, cooking away and chattering the whole time. Steve wondered if he realized that no one was actually listening. Maybe he thought they all were, or maybe he didn’t realize that Scott was really sleeping sitting up, right there next to him. The kitchen space was separated from the dining area by a bar, with a row of stools that allow visitors to watch the cooking.  Their dual engineering and environmental chief was slumped onto one of the stoods, an elbow on the counter and his chin precariously propped in his palm. He’d seem at least partially alert if it weren’t for his eyes shut tight and his shallow regular breathing.

“Cap, you might have to step down now that I’ve got the eye-patch. I’m pretty sure that’s what gave Fury all his authority on the Avenger, after all.”

Steve chuckled, “I think you might have to actually lose an eye for that.”

“Please don’t actually lose an eye.” Bucky chimed in, then with a glare at Natasha, “Please do not purposefully aim for his eye!”

Nat stuck her tongue out at him like a child, “You shouldn’t be so upset, you would be so very bored if I wasn’t teaching Clint to spar…or if he was actually any good at it.”

Clint let out an indignant squawk and slapped his hand on the table, the noise of it rousing Scott, who jumped and nearly sent his stool toppling backwards, “Don’t break my ship!!” he yelled in a sleep-hazed panic.

Even Luis stopped chattering to snicker at him as he blinked around the room, realizing that he’d fallen asleep right in the middle of their usual crew chaos.

Steve gave him a sympathetic smile, about to ask if he was alright when Luis rang the dinner bell that he insisted on keeping on the wall by the stove, “Soup’s on!”

Everyone’s attention strayed from Scott as they pulled up their chairs and prepared to dig in, Luis set it out family style and handed everyone plates, presenting and explaining their meal like a preacher at his pulpit.

Steve had to give Luis credit for one thing, he’d been right when he said his food would blow their minds. They really only ate at station restaurants these days to give him a break, not because they were tired of mess hall food.

A chorus of “Thanks Luis!” went around as they dug into their dinner, all blissfully quiet for a few moments as they appeased their hungry stomachs.

Steve took the rare near silence as his opportunity to broach the topic he’d been ruminating on for a few days now.

“So, crew, when we get to Delta Region we are going to the capitol like I said before, and everyone will get a break, two whole weeks vacation in the capitol, but I’m also getting called in to Company headquarters for a two-year review.”

At this news, everyone paused in their eating to look up at him. Only Natasha knew that this was coming, but the whole crew deserved to know what was happening, they were all chiefs, after all.

“It’s entirely routine, they just want to see how we’re doing, as a new crew on a new ship. We do have to justify our charter, show them that we’ve been successful so far, and our high profit numbers and low crew and equipment incidents will do that for us. But they’re also going to ask about our plans for completing our crew.” Steve looked to Scott, the sympathetic smile back for just a moment before he continued. “I think we can all agree that Scott has been doing a great job juggling two roles, but it was meant as a temporary fix. Headquarters is going to be the best place to find someone qualified to pick up the slack. I plan to spend my two weeks scouting out an environmental chief to pick up the slack.”

Steve looked at his crew expectantly, waiting for either an affirmation or any concerns about his decision. Running this vessel was a team effort, even if he wore the captain title.

“Oh god, anything that lets me get a full night of sleep.” Scott finally said, a look of relief in his sleepy eyes.

That got a chuckle from the rest of the crew, who nodded along their agreement.

 

*****

 

_Earth Year 2452_

_Sol I - Delta Region_

_Voyager Company Headquarters_

  


“Thank you for pursuing your Voyager Company certification for: Level 4 Environmental. You have one hour to complete the exam, please begin now.”

The android at the front of the testing room rattled off their spiel, and the first set of questions appeared on Sam’s tablet. He quickly set to work answering questions, some multiple choice, others short-answer, progressively more difficult as he made his way through the exam. In the end, however, there was nothing that tripped him up. A few years spent _building_ the filtration systems on a free station was an education unlike any other.

It was strange, perhaps, making a career change like this one at this point in his life, but Sam had just woken up one day and needed something different.

He’d grown up on SHIELD military bases across the galaxy, Sam and his mother following his father from system to system as he traveled to each base on a rotation, an officer charged with thorough inspection of each base from top to bottom, dedicated to ensuring a regulated environment from one base to the next.

Sam had followed in his father’s footsteps, not into the same branch, but as a SHIELD officer. He’d gone through basic training, combat training, officers seminars, and worked his way up until he was given the choice of a branch to join. Sam had a fascination with building something, with putting down roots like he’d never had the chance to do before - he’d requested assignment with the colonization branch of SHIELD.

They followed behind the exploration branch to build new stations, new settlements on the most recently discovered planets. The last five years of his life had been spent in Omicron Region, overseeing and assisting in the creation of Providence Station, which would house the Sol IV informational beacon, and be home to those that continued to settle the five tightly packed planets in the small system.

The station was complete now. His team had been reduced down to a handful, and Sam was one of those sent back to headquarters to get a new assignment.

His trip back to Sol I and Delta Region, between the FTL jumps from Sol to Sol and the refueling stops at each SHIELD station, took nearly 6 months of travel, and over the course of that journey, he’d come to the realization that he didn’t want another assignment. He didn’t want to be sent to Theta or Lambda to stay for five more years and build another station. He wanted to have some semblance of control, a chance to relax here and there, and he wanted to see more of the galaxy than those parts still in progress.

That’s how he found himself here, at V.C. Headquarters. At 33 years old, he’d requested a discharge from service in SHIELD, and given his good standing it was granted. Two days and a hopper ride later, he had a nice cushy hotel room, and as of this very moment, a chief-level certification with the Voyager Company.

He probably deserved a drink.

So he set off to find one.

The V.C. Headquarters, unlike SHIELD HQ was very amenable to guests. The station was nearly resort-like with its offerings, nice rooms for rent, plenty of activities, shops, and restaurants, so it wasn’t too hard to find himself a bar and pull up a stool.

The android working the bar was quick to bring him a beer, and Sam gazed around the place for a moment, realizing that while a few patrons here and there were in civilian clothes, most of them wore variations of the Voyager Company uniforms, most in rich deep colors paired with black or gray.

The man on the stool next to him wore the heavy canvas uniform pants in black, with a civilian jacket done up to resemble an ancient American flag, from years and years ago, before national colors had fallen out of relevance and into disuse. A small panel on his shoulder read ‘Cap.’ A ship captain, maybe?

“Captain America?” Sam asked teasingly, wondering only belatedly if the general public even recognized an American flag, or if that was just one of his SHIELD history seminars.

The man looked over at him, blue eyes crinkling in amusement and wow, was that a nice look on him. Not that a face like that could probably ever look bad, blonde and chiseled with a blinding while smile, the man looked like an android, for god’s sake, and…now he was blinking like one, because he’d definitely just asked Sam a question.

Sam must have looked confused, because the man repeated himself, “You know what an American flag looks like?”

“Course I do, I’m ex-SHIELD, it comes with an excess of nearly useless training. I’m surprised to see someone else who does though,” he answered, rolling that term ‘ex-SHIELD’ around in his mind as he got used to the taste of it.

“Most people know it back where I’m from.”

“Earth? Really?” Sam was guessing but it was unlikely another planet would be full of history scholars.

His new companion nodded, “New York City. I’m Steve, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you, Steve, I’m Sam. Not really from anywhere, SHIELD since day one. Though I suppose this is my new day one.”

Steve offered a hand to shake and Sam took it, “Sounds like cause for celebration then, let me buy you a drink.”

Oh sure, this beautiful man could buy him a drink any time. Sam nodded, “Sounds good, Cap.”

Steve laughed and asked the android for another round before turning back to Sam. “So, just signed on to a ship, or in the market for a berth?” he asked jovially.

“About to start looking, just passed my certification exam not even 30 minutes ago. You’re looking at a newly minted level 4 environmentalist.”

Steve’s eyes lit up at that, and Sam could just barely hear the ‘well I’ll be damned’ he muttered under his breath before he fixed Sam with a searching look, “And what are you looking for in a crew, Sam?”

 

*****

 

_Earth Year 2454_

_Sol I - Gamma Region_

_Pluto Station - Docking Sector_

 

Piloting the Howling Commando into port was an old experience by now, but the thrill of doing it here, now, sent a thrill through Steve like he hadn’t felt in nearly five years.

Five years since his dream with Bucky had been realized, since they’d set out on their own to finish their team and build what turned out to be a crew better than anything he could have imagined.

Steve pulled out his tablet and sent a captain’s notice that they had docked, and were cleared to head station-side at their leisure.

Before heading out to explore, he jogged down the corridor to his pod and thumbed the door open. It was a huge room, at least in comparison to that very first pod he’d shared with Bucky all those years ago on the Marvel. A bedroom, living room, kitchenette and two oversized lockers - should he ever have someone to share the space with him. He tried to keep the face of a certain environmental chief out of his mind at that thought.

Not everything had changed, of course, Steve’s belongings were still limited, with the exception of a few more sets of civilian clothes. He shrugged out of his uniform jacket, black canvas with his ID patch diligently affixed - some habits were hard to break - and pulled on his red, white, and blue jacket, the one gifted to him by his crew at the end of their maiden voyage, and that had caught Sam’s eye in the first place, putting the finishing touch on their crew.

When he went to leave, Steve passed the pod that Bucky and Natasha shared and spotted Bucky out of the corner of his eye. “Hey,” he poked his head in the door to beckon to his friend, “aren’t you coming, it’s Pluto! Time to explore!”

Bucky looked up from the object in his hand and smiled, “Yeah, just grabbing something first.”

Steve followed his gaze back to the small box he was holding, and stepped into the room to see better. “Is that…?”

A delicate ring sat in the box, a silver band with a deep red stone that glittered brightly even in the soft residential lights. Bucky shot him a nervous smile and nodded, swallowing.

“We talked about it...a while ago. I’ve had the ring for a few stations now, just waiting for the right moment. Here seems as good a place as any, but I still wanted it to be a surprise. Hard secret to keep, by the way, when you live together. I had to enlist Luis to distract her for me just so I could sneak in here get it without her asking questions.”

Bucky babbled for a moment, clearly anxious, though there was no doubt in Steve’s mind that Natasha would say yes. He beamed, “It’s about damn time. I’ll go rescue Nat from Luis...or maybe Luis from Nat. We’ll meet you on the dock.”

Steve headed back towards the center of the ship, slowing when he heard commotion from the dining room, and flinging open the door to see Luis, facing away from him and speaking a million miles a minute, one hand gesturing around in the air and the other...attached at the wrist to Natasha’s by a set of metal handcuffs.

She was speaking over him, calling him a colorful collection of names that Steve couldn’t have come up with, all the while piercing him with a glare that bordered on deadly as he continued spinning what was probably another of his classic stories. Scott sat doubled over, cackling all the while.

“What the hell is going on in here?” Steve demanded in his best captain voice, as he worked overtime to keep the amused grin off his face.

They all went silent for a moment before both Natasha and Luis started talking over each other again, explaining their side of events, though they stopped when he held up a hand and looked to Scott, who was still trying to get a lid on his laughter.

“What happened in here?”

Scott pulled himself together and took a deep breath, “Natasha wouldn’t listen to Luis’s story so he handcuffed them together and threw the key down the food waste disposal.”

Bucky’s request for a distraction had backfired, just a little bit, it seemed. Keeping his face carefully stern, he looked from Scott to Natasha to Luis. “We’ve come all this way without a cargo haul because everyone wanted to visit Pluto Station while the opening celebration was still going on and you’re going to behave like children and _damage my ship_ when we’ve only just arrived?”

They all sobered a little at that, but Scott piped up again, “We’re here?!”

The excitement in that question was enough to make Steve’s smile break through, just the slightest bit, as he rolled his eyes. “Are you guys ever going to start reading your urgent messages?” He didn’t give them any time to answer. “Yes, we’re here! Now get your asses on dock, Bucky’s meeting us out there. Where’s Sam?”

“He’s getting the key.” Natasha said flatly, the glare she shot at Luis dulled by her excitement at their arrival.

Steve groaned, “Okay, go, I’ll get him and see you in a few.”

He headed down to the environmental bay, still shaking his head at his crew’s antics as he stepped through the door of the space that served as Sam’s office. “Find it?”

Sam turned around to look at Steve, and maybe his eyes lit up just a little at the sight, or maybe Steve’s brain was playing tricks on him. “Not yet, I’ll have to flush the whole system to get it out before it does any damage.”

Steve groaned, shaking his head. “Morons.”

“They’re your morons.” Sam chuckled, eyes going back to the screen in front of him.

Just then, a ping rang from Steve’s tablet and he looked down to see a message from Clint to the whole crew:

_What’s taking so long back there? I’ve already got us a table at the bar!_

Steve sighed, “They are. Just shut it down and we can flush it later, you deserve a break and we can get someone on-station to cut their cuffs off.”

“Sure thing.” Sam said jovially, already tapping away on his tablet to initiate a system shutdown.

Steve turned to finally head for the dock, stopping to look back when Sam spoke again, “It’s worth it, though, isn’t it?” Steve must have looked confused because he went on, “This crew is worth the issues and the antics? If you had it to do all over, you’d leave Earth, you’d cross the galaxy to find this?” Sam’s gaze was soft, and Steve’s heart melted a little.

“It is. I would.”

Sam beamed, “I thought so. I’ll just be another few minutes, save me a seat next to you, Cap.”

Steve nodded, and headed out, a contemplative smile on his face.

He would. He’d do it all again, leave everything he’d known. He was even more sure of that as he stepped foot onto Pluto Station to join his crew; Bucky at his side, like always, Scott gazing in wonder at the massive feat of engineering in front of them, Luis waving excitedly to Clint in the distance, Natasha trying and failing to hide her own smile, and the promise that Sam would soon join them.

They were more than worth it. They were his family, and for a family like this one, he’d cross the galaxy, and then some.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, and please check out the full sized art at Krycek's imgur page [here!](https://imgur.com/KyBHD0T)


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